Dying/broken/forgiven.... now I begin

Born: 17-06-56....gemini.... monkey
re-born: 3-09-80
born again\found: 14-04-08
other notable dates: 10-03-68; 03-09-87; 23-03-96;
1-05-98; 31-01-02; 5-04-04

Interests: movement, stressed/transgressive embodiment, lived experience (body\space\time\relation)
expression ( word, dance, text, image, story, music, poetics)
learning, yielding......

Hopes for the blog:
offer up the wild intersectedness of lived experience and engage others in creative, expressive, perhaps irreverant, hopefully playful, and respectful encounters....
enact kindness
create moments of pause for disclosure, discovery, stillness

Monday, March 29, 2010

Rage against the machine

I go to the mall near my house to find an automated teller machine that is located in my own bank. Normally, I do not balk at the fee I pay for having the gall to withdraw money from another bank, but it was Sunday, I had a bit of time, and the grocery store that I needed was also there and so off I go.
So, yes, the machine ate my card. Let's get that piece of inconvenience out of the way right at the outset. However, it was the absurdity of the whole event that bears telling.
I have withdrawn my money and the thing asks me (ok, I know it isn't really asking me anything, but bear with me, here) if I want to do any more banking and yes, I do, I want to update my little passbook, of course, being the anal creature that I am. I hit the yes key and then, I get an internet explorer screen telling me that it cannot complete the transmission of this message and do I want to continue, even though it suggests that I should say no. This is a freakin' bank machine, not my home computer and I am on a key pad, not a key board and how the hell I got to internet explorer from the yes key is a huge mystery to me and no matter what cancel key I hit, nothing is happening. Nothing. My card is inside and I am fuming at an internet explorer screen.
I pull out my cell phone and call the1800 number and Stephen answers. I bring him up to speed on my predicament and he says, well, ma'am, you're going to have to get a new card.
That will have to be tomorrow, I say and then he says, and you 'll have to call your internet provider about that screen.
I'm not at home, Stephen, I say in that tolerant voice that alerts those who know me well to take cover. Listen carefully this time, Stephen,....I am at a mall in front of one of YOUR INSTANT TELLERS !!! and right now some hacker is probably emptying my account.
well, ma'am, you'll still have to get a new card tomorrow.
I am hoping against hope that this call was monitored for customer satisfaction. Not a chance.
I then punch the machine and curse at it. That word, yes. If I'd had a blunt object, I daresay I would have been arrested for destruction of public property.
What is the moral?? ya got me.....
how about always arrive at a bank machine with a crow bar, you never know when you will get the urge...
I am reflecting on that.
Today I got a new card. Yippee.
onwards, through the fog.


  1. please, feel free to give me a machine story of your own, or suggest an alternative action to mine ( real and imagined).

    rage against the machine!

  2. I have an overwhelming murderous hatred aimed directly at the Royal Bank of Scotland after they bankrupted a close pal of mine. I refuse to use their cash links anywhere I go, but sadly for me the only key-card in my area is operated by the RBS.

    I willingly drive the 20 miles to use the next available one. Stupid I know... but principles are principles.

  3. Okay Harlequin, not to sound racist, or nationalistic, or ugly American kind of, but did that voice on the other end have a tad bit of Indian (as in Inja Indian) accent? My theory is, they hold this continent in high contempt because we can't keep our jobs here...on the continent...they have been put in the hands of Inja people. And they are conspiring to rub it in our faces. He completely had the power to spit that card back at you. It was a humiliation thing. I could be wrong about this, but it all adds up.

    BTW Jimmy, the Royal Bank of Scotland's home office...so I am told by informed sources...well, unsobered drinking friends...is headquartered in Delhi, Inja.

  4. Jimmy-- I knew you were a principled fella form the moment I began reading your blog... and now it is further confirmed. I applaud your defiance!
    Jadedj-- I hear you, and I understand completely your critique; however, Stephen sounded relentlessly average North American. ah well. But I betcha the shagger still had the power to spit that card back, all the same.

  5. oops, sorry Jimmy.... that should be from the moment, from, not form. My poor wee brain.

  6. Sorry Harlequin...it was all tongue in cheek, really.

  7. Jadedj-- the best kind; anytime!

  8. You are never more powerless than before the mirror glass screen of techno-bureaucracy.